


Loving You Is Easy

by yiendere



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, And Bin skipped classes, Falling In Love, M/M, Myungjun is full of surprises, Oh and it's also raining, Where Bin meets Myungjun at a park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yiendere/pseuds/yiendere
Summary: He remembered a castle and cursed woods, and a prince of blond hair and blue eyes looking for a princess. However, it was not written anywhere that this super magical and charming prince would appear to him in the form of Kim Myungjun.
Relationships: Kim Myungjun | MJ/Moon Bin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Loving You Is Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello, everyone ~  
> I haven't written in a while so please make sure to let me know if there are crucial mistakes in this story! I intend on writing more short fics like these if I'm not lazy enough (ah)
> 
> You can always dm me at @lesbyien on twitter if you have any requests or doubts!

There is no simple or concrete way of explaining how it started. Bin just knows that it was like a shot of heat running through his skin, with maybe a mix of nervousness and an uncomfortable pressure on his chest. It was like a wintery embrace given by soft sheets coming from every corner of his bed. Like the scalding but comforting feeling of the first sip of hot chocolate in a rainy morning touching his lips, stealing a sight from his then slightly burned mouth, as he watches the clouds develop into a thunderstorm.

It's almost as comforting as the first beat of a new song never before heard, as a melodious voice gets ready to make itself at home in his memory, making his body feel this funny tingle demanding him to dance. It feels so familiar, but at the same time so new and unknown. Bin had read about it in books, these said books found meticulously displayed around his house in old shelves, filled with stories once told by his mother in tumultuous nights that wouldn't let a young and scared Moon Bin sleep.

He remembered a castle and cursed woods, and a prince of blond hair and blue eyes looking for a princess with the same exact facial features and dress in every story. And this soon became a cycle. There were words he didn't understand at the time, and that during the following years Bin still couldn’t understand their meaning to its fullest. There were vows of love, and there was always a happy ending that dictated the book’s final chapter, followed by a small kiss planted on the forehead of a very sleepy Bin before his mother yawned and wished a good night to her son, closing the door behind her and leaving the young boy dreaming of what could have happened after that happy ending. 

It's funny, none of these pages with colorful designs and huge sized letters warned him about when this oh so fantastic phenomenon would happen in his life. According to his mother, there was no rush to find that princess of glowing and soft skin, stressing that Bin’s story would have more than some mere twenty pages. She had always said that his book would have small cuts and bumps on the corners of the pages, maybe a little scratch here and there, a stain of a fallen tear at the wrong time, and maybe the pages would change color over time. But all this was part of the adventure that was preserving a book and rereading it countless times, for there were always new words to add into its story. 

And so he waited.

But by all gods, no advice given by his mother or any book read throughout the years could prepare him for such a feeling. He just knows that the bench was hard, and was almost covered with small leaves of autumn that inevitably had to die with the passing of the seasons. It was also somehow sticky with resin from the trees above it, and the small drops of rain falling in that exact moment didn’t make it better. 

It smelled like wet soil, as a result of the past days being a true nightmare for anyone who wants to get home without having to run for shelter from the rain, but it was the perfect scenario for Bin. The rain couldn’t keep him at home, it was quite the opposite, it would be surprising if the restless Moon Bin stayed at home because of water coming from who knows where.

He took a deep breath, the rain bringing back memories from his childhood. A slightly embarrassed smile appeared on his face as he settled into the park’s bench. Taking off his coat and placing it underneath him was probably the only saving grace for his ass, but no matter how ridiculous his mind was sometimes, he would not risk getting sick for wanting to protect his backside. In fact, you can not get sick from this ... right? He simply assumed one could not. 

He closed his eyes and simply let nature do its work. Bin had learned over time that the best thing we can do when we feel the despair of life taking over us is to allow ourselves to feel. As simple as that. He allowed himself to cry when he felt like the world was too much for him to tolerate, and he allowed himself to laugh when his own body just wanted to explode with happiness. Suppressing his feelings was a thing of the past, and he could not lie and say that at that moment he did not feel goosebumps in his arms, accompanied by a small tremor coming from the back of his neck that made him shift in his place. He could hear the cars passing by, a horn or another was heard in the distance but it was not enough to interrupt his thoughts. There was no way to go against his own body, and he knew that the coldness he felt in the tips of his fingers was his fault for not bringing gloves, but he already knew what kind of excuse to give himself for his own stubbornness and forgetfulness; he would blame the screen on his cell phone for not being technologically advanced enough to let him use it in peace while wearing his fuzzy gloves. It was the only plausible explanation.

The chirping of birds from the distance gave a whole new dynamic to the dreamy scenario in his head; it was the perfect morning of autumn, so irrationally perfect to make use of the incognito mode he foolishly created in his mind to use for situations like these where he willingly decided to skip classes. 

Irresponsible? Perhaps many would say so.  
Necessary? Yes, Bin would describe it as such.

Bin pulls his cell phone out of the pocket of his now semi-wet coat, mindlessly checking the time to confirm that yes, in fact, it would no longer be worth it to even step foot in college. A small sigh echoed in his ears as his fingerprint was slowly recognized; unlocking the screen and giving access to the old playlist he always listened to every day. Sometimes he thought about updating the same old songs, maybe because the skip button was already spent, but finding music that made him forget about the buzz of the world around him was more difficult than he expected. The same old music will be then.

His frozen fingers unravel the wires of the earphones that stubbornly don’t want to separate, pulling more abruptly out of frustration when his careful movements don’t work at first. His gaze does not immediately notice the approaching silhouette, silent at first glance but soon making itself heard.

“Mind if I sit next to you?” From above came a delicate voice but at the same time cheerful, which caught Bin's attention perhaps a little too quickly. With a glance, Bin noticed the presence of a young man carrying what, three books? Probably more? In his arms, grimly prepared for the rain and wind that made themselves felt that day. The thin-furred scarf around his neck covered part of his face, with only the slightly reddish pointy nose at view, and round and oddly squeezable cheeks peeking through the layers of clothing. His eyes were as shiny as the sun itself; they simply gleamed in his direction, like those of a child who has just found out they’ll be receiving a gift. The beanie sitting comfortably on top of his head left little to his imagination as to what the rest of his appearance would be, and Bin played a game of ‘take a guess’ with his own thoughts if perhaps this boy had black hair or curls, or perhaps he was bolder than he looked and had pink hair, or had no hair at all. It’s a pity that maybe he would never find out.  
Without much time to react, Bin simply nodded, a small and hoarse 'yeah' coming out of his mouth. And the bench swung slightly as the smaller boy sat down, making a small high pitched noise as he adjusted his posture and position before putting the books to his side. A stream of incoherent words followed right after, as the unknown boy shook his head as if he had just done the world’s most stupid mistake. Bin's finger fell on the pause button once more, but this had already become a habit to him. This time his eyes followed the movements of the young (was he really young? perhaps younger than him? he looked around his age maybe) man sitting next to him, curious, icy ears listening to the voice from his side.

Bin must have been staring for too long because his snoopy nature earned him a glance back from the boy who immediately smiles through the material of his scarf, and my God, can he get that damn thing out of the way? His eyes formed crescent moons as he smiled, and Bin would swear he blushed. Not the typical blush that his younger self has read before in countless fairytale books, but the blush of being caught in an embarrassing situation.

“Ah… Silly me, I didn’t notice the bench is wet, and well…” With slightly over the top and vague hand gestures, the boy explained very briefly the reason for his sudden shyness, picking up the books from the spot they were placed on and glancing at the back of them. With an exasperated sound, he turned them over, resting them on his lap and continuing his rationalization “The covers are wet now. I’m not the brightest sometimes”.

And with this final remark, he let out a loud enough laugh to make the people around them turn heads, with a hint of awkwardness in his tone, but still shooting him that pure innocent look that Bin was not expecting. The trembling of his fingers and the way he locked his gaze on his now poor wet books awakened something in Bin’s mind that someone forgot to explain what it is. Perhaps it was the utterly disbelieving way of how the boy reacted to something so obvious that it would happen, or perhaps the fact that in the middle of a park full of equally sticky and uncomfortable benches, he chose Bin's. 

A small tightness in his heart nearly stopped him from resting his cell phone comfortably on his lap and rummaging through his backpack for a handkerchief. Catching it immediately, Bin turned his attention back to the boy, who most likely had already forgotten the incident and his absent and carefree mind was on another planet, by the way he ignores the fact that he is holding a clearly wet book in his hands while his eyes devour the words immersed in it. Bin stretched his arm toward the stranger, waving his handkerchief a bit to make it obvious what his intention was. The boy turned to look at Bin's hand, which was slightly blotched with a mix of red and purple from the cold. He examined his expression as a way to ask for permission to take the handkerchief out of his hand. Closing the book after marking the page with a small marker, the boy took the handkerchief generously given by Bin, accompanied by a surprised yet relieved sound, his other hand clutching at the material slightly moistened by the hazy fog on his scarf, pulling down enough for the rest of his face to be revealed

A handful of ‘thank yous’ fell from his lips as he gently pressed the cloth against the back of his book, noticing a pleasant aroma coming from this same handkerchief, and he was sure his mind would come to associate this scent from now on to the owner of the piece of fabric handed to him.

“So kind, ah… But you know, what matters is the inside. And the book is intact, the pages remain the same” he says, as he flips through the book. This was probably the first time since they sat on the bench that Bin and this mere stranger looked at each other in the eye with the will to do so, and not just by chance. And it is only now that Bin is able to see the details of this person's face (he loved to be able to associate a name to this stranger, but where’s the courage to ask?). 

Bin had to curl his fingers in his hands before he unintentionally touched the adorable prominent and bright cheeks completely on plain sight on the boy's face. And he was right; the boy really did have a beautiful smile beneath the damn scarf. Bin never wanted to kick a piece of clothing so much in life.

Between staring into the lips of a person he had met a few minutes ago and the book that the same person was proudly flipping through, Bin could not help but notice something

“You’re reading a romance?” 

This statement must have caught the boy's attention as yet another short laugh filled Bin’s ears “Don’t you like a good old cliché? Complete strangers suddenly falling in love for incredibly futile reasons and later realizing that love is much more than beautiful words and half-assed apologies. It’s good to explore something like romance in its various forms and wonders.” With this little interjection, the stranger sighed, watching the light rain above him fall, gray sky contrasting with his summer smile “Does it make any sense? Sorry, I must sound so silly…” 

The half-opened mouth indicated Bin’s astonishment, which in his defense speaks louder than any words, and the mention of romance in all its splendor played a prank on him. But listening to someone so full of life being so blunt about what these farfetched books tell... Bin feels like he’s in the presence of a quote taken straight out of tumblr. Not in a bad way.

Swallowing hard to gain the courage to reciprocate an answer, Bin only manages to say “Well… what’s the story about?”

One thing Bin has always been taught is that people have a special glow when they talk about something that fascinates them. Not only can you see that glow but you can also feel it, in their words and in their enthusiasm. Bin can feel this enthusiasm in the stranger's smile.

He can feel the heat coming from the other by simply asking what’s the story behind this book, and the words coming from him seem feathery to the touch. The delicacy and passion spoken by this young man holds all of Bin's attention.

“I could talk about the intricacies of the plot for hours, all the interesting details about the oblivious main character who’ll eventually admit of being in love, or even the quirks of their counterpart. But you want honesty? I don’t think I'd ever be able to describe the story as well as you would.” 

And now Bin is really confused. Did he hear well, or did his mind distance himself from reality the moment the boy opened his mouth to speak? He knows that his head is in the clouds most of the time, too often and even to the point he gets scolded by his mother, but his ears do not deceive him.

“Hm, I don’t think I understand…”

A silent chortle is heard between them as if Bin had just shared an inside joke only they could understand; the stranger looks back at him, and for someone who previously couldn’t find a stream of right words to say without giggling like a happy go lucky teenager, now it seems that he has gained all the courage of the world and is ready to argue as if he were a politician. 

“I did not make myself understood, but I’ll clarify myself; there are too many versions of love out there that neither you nor I can explain. And the pages I read caused me to imagine the type of love I want, and the love I built in my mind.” There was a pause in his reasoning as if he were trying to read the awed expression of Bin as he spoke, “Love is something inherent in us, and each perspective of it makes it even more complex and unique. I know... that sounded very vague and perhaps absurd, but I would like to know your definition of love.”

With all that said, the boy picks up the noisy keychain filled backpack between his feet, adjusts his scarf and buttons up his thick coat, looking around the park and watching as the morning mist covers his face and kisses his tanned skin.

He then takes the book that he was previously finishing reading, the cover softened by rainwater and looking spoiled and damaged. He looks one last time at the book before glancing at a confused and glaring Moon Bin.

“You come here often?” Bin couldn’t manage to blurt out a reply even if he wanted to because next thing he knows the boy stands up, book still in his hand and smile plastered on his face “Next time I see you, I’d like to know your side of the story”.

And with this, the book is handed over to Bin, who takes it hesitantly in his hands. To say that Bin was taken by surprise would be a lie, no, he was completely astonished and staring back at someone who at no time during this oddly convenient meeting told him his name. Maybe he was thinking too much into detail, and maybe this didn’t even need a logical explanation. Perhaps Bin should put reason and morality concepts aside and agree to meet a stranger again in the park. Right? Right.

He could feel like a thousand and one things at the moment, like a teenager about to have their first kiss, or even a bride on the way to the altar about to make a mistake. But he simply felt like a cat, choking on his own ball of hair and unable to speak without sounding nervous and frightened.

Fuck it, go for it.

“What should I call you?” Out came the question, and he was surely afraid of the answer or lack of it.

Turning his attention to the path of wet soil he’d still have to walk through, the once no-name stranger looks one last time at Bin as he places his bag over his shoulder, with a twirl worth of a Disney movie, then proceeding to once again take Bin’s breath away with that gorgeous smile “MJ”.

MJ. No more, no less. Just MJ.

And Bin never thought a name could cause an arrhythmia, and also breathlessness if we are to list all the symptoms that an unbelieving Moon Bin is feeling at that moment. It was not part of his plans to dig into his childhood memory box and rummage through books of ridiculously naive stories in search of a loving cliché in this fine morning, but here he is in the middle of a park contemplating the figure of a bubbly MJ disappearing through the mist while Bin holds in his hands the only clue he has of this mysterious man.

It was not written anywhere that this super magical and charming prince would appear to him in the form of MJ.

A very weird and endearingly corny MJ.


End file.
